


The Worst Sort of Supportive

by okieday17



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Pregnancy, Waiting Rooms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-10 16:04:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/787892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okieday17/pseuds/okieday17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern A/U<br/>Because when your wife is giving birth, Jaime Lannister and Arya Stark are the last two people you want to comfort you</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Worst Sort of Supportive

**Author's Note:**

> I saw this prompt: Sansa is giving birth and Tyrion is waiting anxiously with only [Jaime and/or Arya] for companionship--and all I could think would be how Jaime and Arya would be the worst sort to have trying to calm down an anxious Tyrion. It's a modern AU, and since I didn't want to make it complicated, Tyrion and Sansa are happy and married. Yeah!

“I heard a woman was in labor once for three whole days.”

 

“No way, not three days. That’s ridiculous.”

 

“It’s true!” A beat, a voice sounding less sure, “Well, I heard it from Old Nan, so it might be true. Or it might be a story.”

 

“Uh-huh.” Another beat, “Well I heard that once you’ve given birth your vagina gets all stretchy, never as tight as it is supposed to be.”

 

“EW!”

 

A brief pause, a male voice continuing. “Did you know that most women need stitches after they’ve given birth?”

 

“Stitches? Really? Where?”

 

A blonde eyebrow raised, a smirk evident on his face, “Where do you think?”

 

A dawning look of comprehension on her face, she was always smart. “Oh gods.”

 

This time, a hand gesture, two clasped together hands, ripping apart as that silky smooth voice explains, “Apparently the skin underneath your vagina tears like tissue paper.”

 

Skin gone pale, a strangled noise that turns into a whimper, “I am never having children.”

 

“Beyond the actual changes to the vagina, most women wait at least two months until they start having sex again.”

 

Disbelief this time, “TWO WHOLE MONTHS?!”

 

A nod, that smirk back on his face, “Of course, who would want to have sex with the cracked nipples, the constantly sore vagina, the bleeding—.”

 

Tyrion could take it no more, as he stood up, glaring at the two much taller companions he had with him, wondering why on the gods green earth he had ever thought to invite the two of them with him to this. Did he think they would be supportive?! Hell, in their own sick way, they probably thought they were being supportive. “Would you two both KINDLY SHUT YOUR MOUTHS?!” He takes a deep breath before he continues, “That’s my wife in there about to have our first child AND YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT RIPPED VAGINA’S?!”

 

The two, who had been staring at each other, turn to look at him, their faces both stunned as they take him in. Arya is the first to look sheepish, ducking her head as she says, “Sorry Tyrion. I’m sure Sansa’s vagina won’t tear open.”

 

Jaime looks much less apologetic, that smirk still on his face, “And I’m sure she’ll be the one who wants to have sex after only a month. Don’t worry.”

 

Tyrion just glares at them both, before turning back to the closed doorway, wishing, once again, that he had never let Sansa talk him into having children. Or that he had at least insisted harder that Sansa let him in for the delivery. He did not care how unkempt she looked…but no. Only her mother. Those had been her explicit written instructions, the part about NOT EVEN ARYA underlined four times. He should have seen that for the warning it was and never have invited her to this supposedly joyous occasion. Jaime’s attendance here is no one’s fault but his own. Tyrion had to be ten kinds of crazy to think his older brother would have been a calming presence to have here.  

 

Tyrion takes a deep breath, before he sits back down, “Thank you. Now would you both keep your thoughts and horror stories about birth and everything to yourself!”

 

Two nods, and silence descends upon the trio. Tyrion finally feels his shoulders start to unknot, when Arya sits up straight again, looking at Jaime, “I heard you shit yourself as you give birth.”

 

Jaime turns to look at her interested, while Tyrion just lets out a loud moan, standing and waddling out of earshot of them, all the time wondering if it is indeed bad luck to kill the godparents of your child before it was even born.

 

 If this went on much longer, he was sure as hell willing to chance it.

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, we need more buddy fics where Jaime and Arya just sit there and snark at each other--because they so would.


End file.
